“Nephew,” interpolated the widow.

“Quite so—­’ I shall niver reveal myself to me nephew.’  He said those very words to me only a few minutes before the fatal shell struck him.”

“A shell, major?  You mean a bullet.”

“A shell, madam, a shell,” said the major with decision.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Mrs. Scully, with a somewhat bewildered expression.  “How very sad it all is.  We must thank you very much, Major Bottletop—­”

“Clutterbuck,” said the Major.

“I beg pardon, Major Clutterbuck.  It was very kind of you to call upon us in this friendly way and to give us these details.  Of course, when a relative dies, even though you don’t know much about him, still it is interesting to have a clear account of how it all happened.  Just fancy, Clara,” continued the widow, drawing her handkerchief from her reticule and mopping one of her eyes with it.  “Just fancy the poor fellow being cut in two with a bullet far away in India and him just speaking about Jack and me a few minutes before.  I am sure we must thank Major Bottlenose—­”

“Clutterbuck, madam,” cried the major with some indignation.

“I really beg pardon.  We must thank him, Clara, for having told us about it and for having called.”

“Do not thank me, me dear Mrs. Scully,” said the major, clearing his throat and waving his stubby hand deprecatingly.  “I have already had me reward in having the pleasure and honour of making your acquaintance and of coming nearer to those charums which I had alriddy admired from a distance.”

“Oh, auntie, listen to that!” cried Clara, and both ladies giggled.

“Not forgetting yours, Miss-Miss—­”

“Miss Timms,” said Mrs. Scully.  “My brother’s daughter.”

“Not forgetting your charums, Miss Timms,” continued the major, with a bow and a flourish.  “To a lonely man like meself, the very sight of a lady is like dew to a plant.  I feel stringthened, madam, vitalized, invigorated.”  The major puffed out his chest and looked apoplectically tender over his high white collar.

“The chief object of me visit,” the old soldier said after a pause, “was to learn whether I could be of any assistance to you in any way.  Afther your sad bereavement, of which I have heard, it may be that even a comparative stranger may be of service in business matters.”

“I’m sure it’s very kind of you, major,” the widow answered.  “Since poor Jack died everything has been in disorder.  If it wouldn’t trouble you, I should very much like your advice on some future occasion.  I’ll ask your opinion when I have cleared up things a little myself.  As to these lawyers, they think of their own interests, not of yours.”

“Quite so,” said the major sympathetically.

“There’s the fifteen hundred of poor Jack’s insurance.  That’s not laid out yet.”

“Fifteen hundred!” said the major.  “That’s seventy-five pounds a year at five per cint.”